


Baby Grind on Me

by Dekka



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 18:09:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13641693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekka/pseuds/Dekka
Summary: “Can I kiss you?” Auston asks. He’s poised and ready, Mitch’s face cupped gently in his palms as Mitch’s hips buck up, unsure, as if Auston would ever deny him the pleasure.





	Baby Grind on Me

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this is fake, completely fiction, and has never happened. Enjoy:)

Auston's pulse thrums through him like a too-fast buzzing, his blood sparking like it's being held against a live wire. 

The crowd is still screaming, the rumbling of applause and pounding fists against the glass following the team all the way back to the locker room. 

Shutouts normally leave a static in your bones, but Auston's never experienced something quite so electric before. 

Even his four goal night was dimmed under the disbelief that shrouded him. 

Still, it feels like the game tonight left something to be desired for Auston; a hunger growing inside of him that's not appeased by anything he can offer it. 

Showering feels like too much, while clothes feel like too little, and Mitch stops through two different drive-thrus under the false pretense of 'pleasing the beast.' 

Auston knows he needs a different kind of satisfaction to quell the insistent vibrations coursing through him, not a blood-red burger and a taco twelve pack. 

"You inviting me up?" he asks Mitch, once their wrappers are littered between them on the car's console and it's clear nothing will quench his thirst or lessen his hunger. 

"Yeah, we can watch a movie," Mitch says. He's watching Auston from the corner of his eye like he can tell that there's more to be said- a secret they're not quite sharing in the open.

Auston thinks they're both more than aware of the change in tone between them. 

Still, like always, they argue in the car, then in the hallway, then in Mitch's living room, because Mitch wants to watch a classic and Auston doesn't think anything less than near-constant explosions would keep his attention right now. 

“You’re literally shaking,” Mitch points out, mid-rant about how _good_ , how _pure_ Legally Blonde is. 

He’s right- not about the movie- but Auston’s leg is going a mile a minute, the tremors rocking him one of many signs of the buzz in his veins. They’re on opposite ends of the couch, equally ignoring the movie choices in front of them now, and Mitch presses closer. 

“Lay back, relax,” he prompts. 

It's easy to say that when you don't feel like you're buzzing out of your own skin, but Auston tries to listen anyway, laying down and forcing his chest to heave breaths he can't find the mind to appreciate. 

He doesn't expect the way Mitch makes room for himself, leaving them back to front, Auston’s chest cradling the bow of Mitch's shoulders. Admittedly, it helps settle him, and he wonders if this was Mitch's plan all along. 

"We can watch your stupid movie," Mitch says. His tone is hard to read and it's even more difficult when Auston can't see his face. 

As much as he tries to focus on the beginning explosions and awkwardly-timed love music playing, he can't. 

The couch is too small for the both of them to be laying like this, but Auston's been holding Mitch to him to keep him from falling forward. 

He feels laser focused on the hand that he has pressed under the fabric of Mitch's shirt because the skin there is warm, intoxicating, slowly melting the frantic thrum from his body. It gives Auston a glimpse of what could settle the burning electric current inside of him. 

Despite his best efforts to keep his breathing in for three and out for two, he finds his breath stuttering, his hand clenching on Mitch's hip, and in response Mitch goes still from where they're pressed together head to toe. 

The way he’s so warm everywhere anchors Auston as his brain flies through hyper-speed, trying to release the adrenaline gaining up on him. 

“Is this-” Mitch starts, but Auston shakes away the question, using the break in words to give in to the voice in the back of his mind begging him to bury his head in the crook of Mitch’s neck. He feels cradled, buried there, even though his body is cocooning Mitch's. 

With his face hot with embarrassment, Auston can tell that the intimate hold has calmed his breathing and nearly-frantic thoughts, and he’s sure Mitch knows how he's feeling given the way he’s burying his shame against his skin. 

He isn't only guilty of spooning a teammate; Auston’s desperately hard, trying his best to keep his hips from brushing against Mitch even as they're glued together. 

Eventually, Auston finds the mind to push his embarrassment aside. “Are you okay?” he asks, defeated, knowing there's no use trying to hide the obvious hardness between them. He knows earlier Mitch was just asking him the same thing, but it seems like the least he can do when his dick has shown up to the party unannounced. 

“Can I?” Mitch asks, and before Auston can even process the words, Mitch's fingers are like a sweeping feather against his hand, a question in his gentle touch. 

The second Auston nods, a pathetically-okay noise escaping him, Mitch’s grip goes tight, leading Auston’s hand down, over the hot skin of his stomach, then lower, and lower, until finally- 

Auston’s brain misfires, his lungs sucking in air, and his hips canting forward without his permission. 

“Mitch, fuck,” he breathes out, his hand fitted around the outline of his teammate's hardening dick. 

All Mitch can do is nod back, just as overwhelmed, his breathing equally as stunted. 

“Common, common,” he begs, and he’s twisting in Auston’s grip, pulling on him, moving back on the couch so Auston can finally get on top of him. 

It’s so natural, the way Mitch’s legs spread out, perfectly cradling one of Auston’s thighs. 

“Can I kiss you?” Auston asks. He’s poised and ready, Mitch’s face cupped gently in his palms as Mitch’s hips buck up, unsure, as if Auston would ever deny him the pleasure. 

Even with everything so brutally quick and mindless, this moment is slow, almost loving. 

“Mitch?” Auston has to ask again.

His teammate's attention is frayed as his eyes jump from Auston’s, to his lips, then to where his own dick is painfully hard. Auston can tell Mitch is trying not to grind down on his thigh. 

He gets a front row view as Mitch's lip gets pulled in, bitten, his eyes finally come back up to Auston’s. 

“Please, yes, _yes_ ,” he begs, and Auston feels the current in him peak and flood his mind, forcing him down to capture Mitch’s lips in his. 

Still, with their lips locked, Mitch squirms under him as if trying not to let their hips grind, as if that on top of everything else would be too much. 

There's a heat between them growing, though, sweat beading as their hands explore, wild, and their lips map each other's. 

Auston’s lets his fingers seal around the cut of Mitch’s abs, forcing him down even as he tries, again, to buck up. 

Their tongues clash for a second, their lips refusing to part, and as a whine escapes between them, all hopes of keeping this PG fly out the window. 

Against Auston's thigh, Mitch presses down, once, testing, and his mouth opens around a punched-out moan, letting Auston devour him. 

The heat between them is getting unbearable, building and building, and Mitch’s hesitant bucks are turning into a slow, dirty grind that’s driving Auston wild with want, almost teasing in the way it brings him close to the edge, but not close enough. 

“Fuck,” Mitch chokes out. His hands have abandoned their search of Auston’s body in favor of tearing at the couch cushion beneath them to get leverage for their frantic grind. 

Auston cant look away, not as Mitch arches under him, pressing more soundly against his thigh. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen; Mitch just using him to get off. 

“Matty, please,” he cries, when Auston pulls back to readjust himself. Hearing him beg like that, panting, out of his mind, too turned on to even be embarrassed makes his grip on his own cock redouble, rubbing out the shiver that crawls frigidly down his spine.

“Can you come like this?” Auston asks, pressing his knee up further so that Mitch has more to work with. At this point he doesn’t care that his hand’s down his pants, a half-slick, half-dry rub as thrilling as it is uncomfortable. 

Under him, Mitch’s eyes plead for _something, anything_ , while his hands pull at Auston's shirt to get him to hover back over him. 

“Better like this,” Mitch pants, the angle perfect as hips buck up again and again. It leaves Auston without a hand to jerk himself off with as he holds his body over Mitch's.

Even while frantically trying to cross the finish line, he finds he cares less about his own orgasm as Mitch moans, his hands scrambling, trying not to reach down to touch himself. In desperation, his hands end up tangled in the lip of Auston’s jeans, pulling him down harder, keeping him closer for Mitch to grind on. 

There’s something about watching as Mitch takes from him that has his mouth parting open, his breath dizzyingly tight as his stomach swirls, hot enough that he knows he wont last much longer.

“Kiss me, do something, _please_ ,” Mitch begs. 

Auston’s hand pushes up his shirt, letting his fingers trail the edges of abs and a happy trail. It’s the most skin he’s got to touch while looking, and he’s mesmerized by it, seeing and feeling everything, taking it all in.

“Auston,” Mitch gasps again, and it forces his attention back to his face. 

He's intoxicating, hard to even glance away from. His eyes keep fluttering under the pleasure, his eyebrows drawn together and mouth slack as he pleads Auston’s name over and over again. 

He’s lightheaded with it, drawn in by every little micro-expression and tiny jump of muscles as Mitch grinds and bucks, and begs to come. 

Auston’s had girls under him, a fair share of guys, too, but nothing compares to this, even with his cock, untouched, straining against his zipper. 

On the next grind, Mitch’s head throws back, his breathing dangerously sporadic, and it gives Auston the perfect view of what feels like miles and miles of the pale, unmarked skin of Mitch’s neck that’s practically crying out for him. 

He cant help it. His mouth trails over Mitch’s jaw, skirting lower and lower, wanting, needing, to bite down. 

Pulling the skin into his mouth to knead and soothe, he gives in. The second his tongue flicks forward Mitch goes taught under him, shaking as his orgasm takes over.

Auston stays close to drag it out, but he eventually has to learn back to let his eyes devour the sight in front of him, Mitch dropping like a string’s been cut, his chest heaving. 

Auston knows his own eyes are wide, wild even, but he cant look away. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, amazed, and Mitch’s eyes blink open dreamily, his mouth still panting to draw air in even as his blissful release grows old. 

Overtaken by want, Auston tries to lean down further to kiss him, but Mitch freezes against the movement, choking on a over-sensitive cry as his hands scramble to hold Auston’s hips back. 

Even just the tiniest brush forward has his breath stuttering. It's an idea Auston would want to press someday, seeing how far he could push Mitch until he'd cry with it, so greedy, so desperate to come again. Tonight, though, Auston relents, sitting back on his heels, painfully aware of how hard he is.

Eying him with a question, Mitch brushes his shirt up to his neck. 

Auston's so on board with the assumed idea that he doesn’t even think of how uncomfortable it’ll be to jack off on Mitch while his hand is dry until he’s already got his pants shoved down and a fist around his dick. 

“You can,” and Mitch nods down at himself, at the pool of come resting in the jut of his hip and starting to sink into the fabric of his shorts. It’s not much but it’s something, and Auston goes in greedily, but also careful in sake of Mitch’s spent body. 

Finally getting a wet hand around himself feels like finding water in a drought. He settles into the hold, head thrown back, eyes closed as his mind rushes over every little expression and noise Mitch made as he came. 

He’s not going to last much longer. 

“You’re almost there,” Mitch soothes. It’s only then that Auston realizes he’s making these frantic, desperately low noises from deep in his chest. 

He feels like he's floating, above his body, so he focuses on the feeling of the hand Mitch is lazily raking up and down his chest and abs, never getting low enough to touch where Auston’s punishing his dick with his own hand. It’s a all-consuming mix of gentle and gruff, and it’s so them that Auston’s eyes are squeezing shut as his free hand pins Mitch below him, just feeling that he’s there and this is real, and it’s his. 

_Mitch is his_. 

He comes with a moan, unable to hold himself up any longer as his forehead, then body, falls against Mitch’s. 

He’s too out of it to hear Mitchy’s voice, his arms comforting as he pulls Auston the rest of the way down to settle on top of his chest. 

There’s even more come drying between them now, but Auston can barely think, let alone move. 

Absentmindedly, Mitch’s hand has started to card through his hair and it’s pulling him deeper into his hazy mind, like he’s come-drunk and only sinking lower into it. It’s the exact opposite of the pent up adrenalin that fueled him before, but Auston cant find it in himself to even think about regretting what they’ve done. It came on so naturally, a purity of want and lust, and maybe, after so long, even love. 

“Auston?” Mitch whispers, but it’s more of a lull than a call to wake up, and Auston finds himself unable to fight his drooping eyes any longer. 

He slips off to sleep with the thundering of Mitch’s heartbeat echoing in his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> oooopppps? Comments feed the writer :) 
> 
> (This was originally going to be part of a meet the marners chapter but it didnt fit in and I didnt feel like fixing the writing so here's some low-grade smut to pass time while I write the next Meet the Marners chapter)


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